Follow In His Footsteps
by JasperK
Summary: The hike through the desert becomes just too much for Meryl. Milly and Vash try to help.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Edited 5/10/2013 for clarity and spelling.

* * *

**Follow In His Footsteps**

The twin suns baked down on an endless dune sea. The heat was so unrelenting that even mirages did not form. Meryl ducked her head down, her dark hair falling in her eyes. The air was dry. So dry that it stole the moisture from the body. It hurt to breathe. She longed to wrap a cloth across her face. A cool one, moistened by water. Water she did not have. It hurt to blink. The air had whipped away what moisture her eyes could spare. The sand was gritty, stuck in her lashes. Ah, the sand. The dehydrated air and the heat were nothing on the sand. It was insidious, the sand. It worked its way into her shoes, and her clothing. She found it rubbing her toes raw. She found it rubbing other places raw, places that never saw the sun, but somehow the sand worked its way in.

She was so thirsty and so tired. She longed for the cool rooms of where there was no sand. At least no sand she had to deal with. Where she could sit and type reports with contented meticulousness, and have order in her life once more. And a cool glass of water to sip...

"Wahoo!"

Meryl jumped, startled out of her drifting dehydrated thoughts, then stumbled. Milly reached out a hand to steady her as she turned her ankle in one of the deep prints Vash had left in the sand. They watched as the man ran across the sand, his duster tails flaring out behind him.

"What happened to Mister Vash?" Milly asked worriedly.

Meryl blinked. It hurt to think.

"He's getting away, Milly." She breathed with exhaustion.

"Then we had better follow him, Miss Meryl." Milly said with determination.

Meryl glanced up at her. Did she not feel the heat exhaustion or the dehydration?

They trudged on. Through the heat. Through the dry air. Through the sand. Following in his deep foot prints in the soft sand. One pace. Then a small step that didn't quite reach, then another pace. He had such a large stride, one easily for every one and a half of hers. They would take them to him once more. All she had to do was put one foot in front of the other and link the dents he had made in the sand. Follow his trace to where he would be.

* * *

Milly ran into the Saloon. Blond hair. Red coat. Blond hair... Ah! Red coat with his face in water jug. There he was, the tricksome man! She marched straight over to where Vash was downing a jug of water in between sips of whiskey.

"You've got to help Miss Meryl!" She exclaimed.

Vash froze. Blinked at her, then coughed as the half swallowed water choked him. Milly took the jug of water from him and poured some into a glass. She sipped it while Mister Vash managed to find his breath again. He sat hiccupping.

"What?" He hiccupped. "What happened?"

"She's talking crazy and won't come into the town. Says she needs to follow your footsteps."

"Huh?"

They looked at each other. For someone with such innocent green eyes, Mister Vash had an impenetrable gaze. Milly did not know she had even won the staring contest until he dropped his gaze and sighed dramatically.

"Top up my jug, barkeep!" He declared.

Milly followed him to the edge of town where they could now see Meryl some distance away, walking back the way she had come with an odd gait.

"In my footsteps." Vash murmured incredulously. "Insurance girl, you were right!"

He raised the jug of water as if in a toast then strode out into the desert after her.

* * *

"Hey?"

She stopped walking and tried to open her eyes further, but they were glued into a squint by the sand and the harsh light. It took a moment for her sluggish thoughts to collect in her sun-addled mind.

"Here."

She knew what had been put into her hands. She could smell the water even as sand clogged as her nose was. She sipped at it, amazed at how it flowed down her throat, refreshing and revitalising her. Her glass was refilled and she gulped it down, greedily. It was filled a third time, and this time she looked up. It was with some confusion that she stared up at gentle green eyes and the wisps of blond hair that fell across them. Where was Milly? Hadn't she been right next to her?

For a moment Vash's expression was a sort of sad protective gaze. He then broke into a broad smile.

"There!" His voice was soft, unlike his usual exuberance. As if he did not wish to scare her. It was puzzling. "You can see me."

She frowned up at him.

"What are you talking about?"

"No- Nothing!" He exclaimed. "Only, big girl is waiting for us!"

Meryl handed the glass back to Vash and took the jug. When he walked beside her, he shortened his gait. She could keep pace with him now. She sipped the water straight from the jug. Why had he come out into the desert with a glass and a jug of water? Why was Milly looking so worried? She glanced down at the sand. With a creeping sense of shock, then horror she noticed that they were walking beside the deep prints she had been following. She could see her own, one and a half for every one of his. She had already walked this way, and ... and had turned back.

As if he could be found by the imprint he left. She felt herself blush. In her dehydrated confusion she had reached the road, and instead of looking for him, she had returned to follow his trace. She had reduced his complex existence to a simple indicator of his passing. Somehow, it had made sense back then, but now it made her look insane.

Right on cue he spoke.

"What was it about my foot steps that made you go back out into the desert?" He sounded genuinely puzzled.

She would not allow him the satisfaction of how foolish she felt just then. She had wanted to find him, of course. At that thought, she felt her cheeks flame red. She could feel the weird tension arcing between them. She did not know how to react to it, so slipped back into guard position and went on the defensive. She did not like this quiet gentle side of him. It made her react ... oddly.

"What do you think?" She snapped. "You brought me water!" Oh why had she said that? That was almost an admission.

"That you were sun crazy!" He grinned at her.

She gaped at him, infuriated, as he nailed it. Why had he come to find her, why not Milly? She hadn't wanted him to see her go to pieces like this, it was too humiliating. She irately jerked the jug up and tossed the water over his head. She spun around and marched toward the town.

"What? What was that for?" He called after her. In her mind's eye, she could see his hands going to his ruined hair and sodden coat.

It was his fault. This entire thing was his fault. He had some strange way of unsettling her thoughts, following his footsteps indeed. Hah!

"Oh man!" He whined, then called again, the whine only increasing in its pathetic nature as he raised his voice. "I didn't mean to call you crazy!"

Meryl ducked her head as she crossed the remaining distance between her and Milly. Her grip on the jug handle was so tight her knuckles were white. No, it had not been what he had said. His words were simply a catalyst. It was his presence. The way he radiated something, a heat she could feel, a very different heat to that which the sun gave off. And like the sun, it was driving her crazy. The water had not helped to cool it at all!

She stepped into the last of his footprints before the soft sand became road once again. His boot was so much bigger than hers. How could she hope to amount to anything in his eyes if she couldn't even keep up. She knew then that she was crazy, even without the sun and dehydration. What kind of thinking was that? She needed to get to the saloon and drink another jug of water.

She sneaked a glance back as Milly fell into step beside her. Vash was standing in the sand where she had left him. He had the oddest expression of concentration on his face and one eye squinted almost closed, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth. He was fastidiously trying to fix his sodden hair. She couldn't help the giggles that came then.

* * *

Milly turned back to see what had caused Miss Meryl's laughter. To her surprise, Mister Vash gave her a lightning quick smile and a wink. Then stylishly traced a finger over his newly fixed hair and sauntered out of the desert after them. Milly smiled happily back at him. She was glad he did not hold Miss Meryl's behaviour against her.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Chapter 1 bothered me (like a stone in my shoe) as the characterisation was not quite right. That'll teach me to post without giving the story a day to air out the kinks. (Not that I'm not doing the SAME with this one.) Here is a different PoV to work out why things went the way they did. JK_

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**[Follow In His Footsteps: 2] Tracking Hers**

Vash plodded along, his feet sinking deep into the soft sand of the dunes. If he listened carefully, he could hear the faint squeak of sand as his boots ground into it. After a while, he began to get a feel for the pitch of the squeaks and began to mess with it. If he dug his heels in just so with a little more or a little less force he could actually play a tune of sorts. It was better than thinking of the last three days of walking on low water rations. That morning they had run out. He was fairly certain that there was a small village ahead, perhaps some eight iles or so from their last camp, but he had not wanted to get the girls hopes up. He glanced back at them. They were both walking at a slower pace than usual, their eyes glassy. The shorter one was swaying as she walked, not a good sign at all. This was why he had tried to lose them earlier. He knew what scraps he could get himself out of, but now that he had to factor the insurance girls into it, he made mistakes. It was not fair. It was not fair at all.

He peered up at the horizon and his eye caught a glimpse of a light reflection. It was too hot for mirages to form, the air cooked all the way up to the upper atmosphere. No, that was a real reflection, which meant a settlement, which meant water. He suddenly could not think for thirst! He glanced back at the girls then noticed the oddest thing. The short one was carefully planting her feet into his boot prints, then taking a pace and a half to step into the next. Hah! He knew what to do now! He could lead them to water! He gave a shout of delight and ran on ahead, taking care to keep his stride shortened so that the short insurance girl could follow him.

He staggered into the saloon and slumped onto the tall stool at the bar.

"A jug of whiskey and some water please."

"Are you sure?" The barkeep raised an eyebrow at him.

Vash blinked at him, what had he done to get such a look?

"What?" He asked dazedly.

The barkeep then placed a pitcher of water on the bar before pointedly placing a tumbler containing a whiskey on the rocks. So good! Just what he needed. He gulped down the water. The barkeep was still giving him a pinched glare. What was wrong? It took him several gulps of water before he remembered that he had just wandered in from the desert. He dug out a double dollar bill from his pocket, the man's expression softened and he topped up the water.

"You've gotta help Miss Meryl!" Milly exclaimed appearing beside him.

He choked on his water, trying to talk and swallow at the same time. He leaned on the bar coughing as he felt his heart sink with worry. What had happened to the short girl? He had made sure they both had enough of a track to follow him. Milly stood drinking his water and explaining the strange phenomenon he had seen earlier. Meryl walking in the prints he had left behind. But wait... She was so disorientated she had walked back out into the desert? He looked up at Milly to see what she made of this, but all her blue eyes showed were a deep concern for her friend. He liked that about the big girl. For her, love and loyalty were the foremost in her mind, and she had extended it to include him. Her trusting gaze assigned him responsibilities he did not want, though the more he was around the girls, the more he felt his reluctance crumble. No! He could not afford to think that way. That only ever led to heartache. Oh Man, did the girl have glorious blue eyes. He ducked his head in defeat.

He carried the jug of water out into the desert. He could see a small figure retreating into the bright sands. From the tracks she made, she had reached the town limits, but had oddly turned back out and walked away. How very strange. He strode after her, pondering this. He knew what dehydration could do to the mind; he had seen people raving before. Although they usually had the sense to follow their friends, or at least to find people to get water. Oh man, was that it? She was following him? Only her mind had somehow not linked the end of his trail with rejoining civilisation. He slowed in his approach. He knew how dedicated she was to her work, but somehow, this was beyond dedication. Oh no. Was it working the other way too? The more they spent in each other's company, the closer they drifted? No. No. No! He could not think like that. He caught up with her and called to her, but she did not respond. He held out the jug, but still she kept up her odd pace, making certain to put her boot into the print he had made earlier. For some reason, that made him acutely uncomfortable. He really liked it, the way she placed a small foot into his larger print. He should not find something like that so thrilling, but he let the happiness bubble through him. It was not often he was gifted with such moments.

He dug the tumbler out of his pocket and filled it. Perhaps she would recognise that, he did not want to touch her now. That in itself was telling. He was in far too deep. Usually it was so easy around the ladies, but Meryl turned him inside out. She made him do things like he was doing now, and tangled up his thought so he was second guessing himself.

She finally noticed him when he stuck the water under her nose. He forgot himself long enough to treasure how a few sips returned her to the feisty short tempered nature he knew. She took the jug from him and he pocketed the tumbler. He noticed her watching his pace and shortened his stride so that she would be able to keep up. She was so tiny. He would be able to tuck her into his arms and rest his chin on her head without having to stretch. The bliss and the anguish that flooded through him at that thought shocked him. Oh man. Oh man, did he have it that bad? No. Such a thing could never happen. She was such a dedicated person; she would never leave her job for him. And he could not settle, no. He had unfinished business of the worst sort. He felt the cold sorrow return, and clear his mind. This was why he could not even dream like that. It only hurt. However, he was still curious. He watched her sip from the jug.

"What was it about my foot steps that made you go back out into the desert?"

Her cheeks went pink. Damn his curiosity. That reaction made his heart stutter and the hurt knot up inside him.

"What do you think?" She snapped. "You brought me water!"

He wanted to laugh in delight at her answer. Her frustration chased the pain out of him.

"That you were sun crazy!" He declared in delight, not wanting to speak the truth they were both avoiding.

She turned in askance, then with a steely look of fury, threw the water at him.

It dripped down his face. It sent rivulets down his back. It drenched his coat, and worst it soaked his hair. He stood, stunned, as she walked away. He wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. If anything she had it worse than he did. He called after her, but she only tightened her grip on the jug. He opened his mouth to follow up with a witty comment when he caught Milly's gaze. She shook her head, then turned away. He shut his mouth. Milly was protecting her, or was it him? Now that he had a moment to consider it, the jug would be sure to follow the water if he said anything more.

He gave up trying to figure out the ladies reactions, and tried to fix his hair. It was drooping everywhere. Then a giggle made him look at them. The short girl was laughing at him. He caught the glance the big one gave him and was so flustered by the laughter that he winked at her. What was he doing? He tried to recover his calm by sauntering after them but tripped over his own fancy footwork and landed face first in the sand. Ow. Ow. Ow.

"Mister Vash what happened?"

Where to begin to answer that? He picked himself out of the sand and grinned brightly.

"The Saloon is thissaway!" He marched on past them. That whiskey on the rocks needed some devoted attention. Oh yes. Whiskey was simple. He needed simple right now.


End file.
